


I Feel So (Screwed)

by dharma_club



Series: Boys [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Rimming, Unresolved Romantic Tension, mentions of other partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 13:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20341099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharma_club/pseuds/dharma_club
Summary: Some things just take time. For now, they have summers.





	I Feel So (Screwed)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing anymore.  
I'm not done with the arch, so I guess it's going to be a trilogy? But it can definitely be read as a standalone, I think (let me know if you tried and it makes no sense, pls). 
> 
> Title obviously from Janelle Monae's **Screwed**

Dylan sobers up and he’s got it mostly together by the time he’s driving home from the McDavids’ place. Unfortunately, his cock isn’t being a team player and he’s basically been sporting a semi for hours by this point. Something about the combination of the still too-familiar proximity of Connor’s body and Dylan’s imagination going into overload on all things Mitch Marner has gotten him feeling horny as fuck. But also, like, a little sad? He doesn’t even know. All he’s certain of is he saw that message from Mitch and then looked at Connor and there’s been a low rumble of anticipation running through him ever since. 

Mitch swings the door open in nothing but sweats the moment he hears Dylan’s key in the lock. He bites his lower lip and steps aside silently, letting Dylan walk in. 

Dylan wants to touch him so he does, his hand gently rubbing a perky nipple with his thumb before the door even shuts. Mitch sighs and takes Dylan’s hand in his instead, raise it to his mouth, gently sucks on Dylan’s thumb. 

_Fuck._ Apparently Dylan is not the only one who’s been waiting. 

“Hi.” Dylan rasps dumbly, staring at Mitch’s mouth. 

Mitch releases Dylan’s hand when he realizes no seduction is necessary. “Hi yourself. How was Davo’s? Pic seemed cozy.”

It’s not really suggestive, but Dylan can still hear the curiosity in Mitch’s voice. 

“It was fine.” Dylan shrugs and starts undressing under Mitch’s appreciative gaze. They're not even going to pretend waiting is on the table right now and they both know it. “He got me drunk and then tried to bribe me with sex to talk about feelings.”

“Ah. Davo, the road not taken.” Mitch is running his hand over his own waistband and it takes Dylan a moment to register what he said. Well, Davo _is_ the road not taken for both of them, in a way. 

Dylan doesn’t really sleep with anyone who isn’t Mitch nowadays. He discovered pretty early on he doesn’t enjoy the sex all that much if he doesn’t have feelings for the person he’s having it with. And that list is surprisingly short. Nick was great for when Dylan was miserable and frustrated in Arizona, but that played out its course and thank god for that because they sure weren’t making each other happier. Dylan and Brinksy fuck sometimes, and Dylan truly loves him but it’s not like that. They're just friends. Only they're the type of friends who suck each other off sometimes. 

And that’s basically it. Mitch is more than enough. If anything, sometimes it feels like Dylan can barely keep up with him as it is. 

Except. Maybe. Not being more serious about Connor when he had the chance is pretty much the only thing in his life Dylan properly regrets. Not that Dylan would’ve even known how to be serious about someone back then, even if Connor had given him the chance. But they would’ve figured it out. 

But back then Connor would’ve made him choose and Dylan is not sure he could ever give up Mitch. Not for anything. 

“Davo likes his thing with Leon” he tells Mitch instead, shrugging. “He just got nosy.” 

Mitch scowls. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have made it that big of a deal.”

It’s not a conversation Dylan cares to rehash again, not now. But still. 

“Marns, come on, I was an asshole. You’ve got a right to talk to your friends about it.” 

“Not with Davo. He doesn’t get to know if he’s not part of this.” Mitch sounds more annoyed than the situation warrants. But he can’t be too angry about it because his eyes are tracing Dylan’s cock through his underwear. “He can’t pick and choose which parts of us he gets to have.”

Dylan really doesn’t want to talk about Connor anymore.

“Off.” he says, tugging at Mitch’s sweatpants and Mitch does as he’s told, leaning up for a kiss once he’s in nothing but underwear. 

“Missed you today,” he whispers against Dylan’s lips. 

Dylan kisses him hard, open mouthed and filthy, one hand cupping Mitch’s cheek and the other tightening around his bicep, solid and warm. _God_. Fuck everything else. 

They’re both breathing heavily by the time Dylan slides his hand over Mitch’s ass, searching. Mitch moans against his mouth when Dylan makes contact with the toy through the fabric of the underwear. 

“You drive me insane,” Dylan drags him to the couch in the open living space. The fancy dimming effect on Mitch’s windows is off, but it’s getting darker and the lights are off. It’s pretty private, safe. 

Besides, Mitch isn’t too far gone to complain if he really wanted to. 

“Get naked?” he asks and gets two gatorades from the fridge. He drinks one and hands the other to Mitch, who managed to get his underwear discarded and his ass up in the air in no time. “Drink up.”

“Thanks,” Mitch takes a few gulps as Dylan kneels behind him. . 

“Come on, spread your legs,” he says

Mitch does. Mitch always listens, excited and eager to please Dylan. So he leans in and nips at his butt, because he’s satisfied, because he can. Mitch giggles. 

It’s summer and he can have Mitch like this, real and happy and his. Ready for whatever Dylan wants to give him. He loves that Mitch is easy, loves how desperate and needy he gets. Dylan doesn’t know how or why, but while he’s not wired to be jealous, he is plenty possessive. Feels it down to his soul every single moment he gets to touch Mitch. An undercurrent of mine rushing through him at the feel of skin against skin.

He just also happens to get the same possessive rush hearing how Mitch fucked someone else. Feels a weird sense of pride in knowing Mitch will always call or text to tell him after. 

“Come on,” Mitch whines and Dylan bites again, less playful. 

“Behave,“ he warns. Mitch huffs, but settles. “I think I might have a change of plans for tonight, do you mind?”

He slid a plug into Mitch this morning and promised him he’s going to spank him until he cried when he gets back. And he kind of still wants that, always wants Mitch desperate and begging and overwhelmed. But Connor managed to unsettle him and he feels a little on edge, cruel and sharp. Which means he needs to pull back a little so he doesn’t hurt Mitch. Unintentionally, that is. 

“Sure, whatever you want.” Mitch says. “But maybe today?” 

“You’re such a brat.“

“Babe...” Mitch whines again, and Dylan gets it. Gets never wanting to waste time, gets needing each other, always and constantly. Tries not to react to Mitch using babe on him. Because it’s _unfair_. 

Instead he gives Mitch what he wants, takes off his underwear, holds the end of the plug and fucks Mitch with it leisurely, trying to decide what the game plan for tonight is. 

It’s an unwritten rule that summers are for them. He has editing permissions for Mitch’s calendar and Mitch in his bed every night during the summer. Well, Dylan is in Mitch’s bed in Mitch’s condo. Which he has key to. But that’s besides the point.

Summers are different. Dylan genuinely likes that Mitch gets extra slutty during the season and gets fucked by anyone who’s up for it, but summers are just them. The last and only time they talked about it they were 17 and basically fucking everyone willing in their draft class. They had sat in Dylan’s parents’ basement, with Mitch in Connor’s lap and Dylan’s leg brushing against them both and set their own rules for the three of them over Mario Kart. It was going to be a summer arrangement. 

That’s why the fight was a big deal. They’re not supposed to be fighting about rent payments or expensive weekend trips. Because that’s just not what you do with a summer arrangement. Connor and Brinksy have been constantly refer to Mitch as Dylan’s boyfriend for years now, and he seriously wants that. Connor keeps having boyfriends; long term, committed, serious relationships, and Dylan has spent the last five years trying to figure out Mitch. 

Mitch grinds back and Dylan huffs, mind refocusing on here and now. Sometimes Mitch doesn’t seem so complicated. But. He wants to be someone worth waiting for. Someone Mitch will feel proud to be with.

He removes the toy and bends down, breathes hotly against Mitch’s hole. He knows he’s not supposed to think it, but Mitch’s hole is, well, cute. Rosy and desperate, glistening with lube. He kisses him there, gentle and Mitch groans. 

“Fuck. Dylan.”

“You taste good.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Dylan laughs. “Thank god for flavoured lube.”

Mitch giggles again, grinning over his shoulder at Dylan. 

Toronto is finally going dark behind them and Mitch is just _there_, so Dylan spreads his cheeks wider, licks deeper into his body, making him moan loudly. 

It’s easy and sweet for a while, Dylan uses his mouth to get Mitch moaning and sighing, rocking his hips against Dylan. Mitch can’t come from just this, Dylan knows, it’s too nice to truly get him off. He’s stroking his thumb over Mitch’s upper thigh soothingly when he suddenly has the best idea ever. 

He keeps a steady rhythm fucking Mitch with his tongue, not too deep, but enough to get Mitch making small aborted sighs, spreading his legs on the couch. And then Dylan grabs on and pinches the inside of Mitch’s thigh, hard. 

Mitch whines, sudden and shocked, and Dylan does it again, finds a different stretch of skin and holds longer, twists harder. 

“God, Dylan.” Mitch cries out, wiggling and whining. “Hurts.”

Mitch rarely speaks during sex and Dylan leans back a little, satisfied, blows air gently on his opening as Mitch whines again. “You like it?”

Mitch is breathing like he’s been on the ice for five minutes straight and Dylan pinches him again, higher on his other thigh. Mitch makes a shocked breathy sound that’s between a moan and a scream, which is. Just. So. Fucking. Hot. 

“Yeah, you like it.” Dylan says, more confident, pinching harder in the same place he just did. 

“Yeah, I… Fuck, ow, I like this. Dyl. Thank you.” 

He sounds out of it already. Dylan has been working on getting Mitch to talk more for the last year. He’s vocal alright, but he tends to avoid actual words in favor of obscene sounds. It’s so freaking hot, and Dylan doesn’t mind spearheading all the dirty talk until he can get Mitch there. 

For months it’s been Dylan simply looking at Mitch go red on his computer screen, saying _how did his cock feel inside you_, and _you’re such a slut, Marns_ and _bet you liked the stretch, Mitchy_ until Mitch just moans and nods and begs to come. 

And now it’s time to escalate.

“You stop talking, you don’t get to come,” Dylan warns and gets back to business. 

“Please, Dyl, can’t…” Mitch moans.

He knows how to get Mitch. Knows to alternate between fucking him with his tongue to drawing shapes with it. Traces their names and jersey numbers across Mitch’s hole as he cruelly pinches and twists the soft flesh of Mitch’s inner thighs. 

Mitch babbles encouragements throughout. “Yeah, Dyl. So good. Hurts so good.” 

God, he’s _unreal_. Dylan sucks on Mitch’s rim and then gently grazes his teeth over his hole and Mitch screams hoarsely. 

“Dyl, babe... Need to… Please.”

Usually he would reach around and get Mitch there, push him to come so he’s soft and malleable before Dylan slides in and fucks another orgasm out of him. But suddenly he can’t wait anymore, his own dick is throbbing hard and desperate, like he suddenly remembered he’d spent the entire day wanting this.

“I got you,“ he leans back, getting up. Mitch whines again, obviously confused.

He gets on with the program when Dylan rubs his cock against his thigh. Dylan thinks that maybe it’s time to move to the bedroom, but Mitch is still babbling nonsense, back arched and perfect and Dylan just needs him now. 

Mitch is wet when he slides into him, saliva and lube easing the way. Dylan isn’t going to last at all. 

He fucks Mitch fast and short, holding on to his hips, and then his shoulders, listening to Mitch try and keep talking as he was told.

"Do it… God, do it… Please please please...."

"Fuck," Dylan groans. "Oh, fuck, Mitchy. Come for me, baby. Bring yourself off.” 

It only takes Mitch two shoves into his own fist until he comes, going tight around Dylan, all high breaths and aborted moans as he shudders.

Dylan’s own orgasm isn’t far behind, Mitch still mewling in his arms, oversensitive and stupid.

“Stay,” he says hoarsely before pulling out and grabbing his own dick. Mitch’s back and shoulders are smooth and strong, summer tan and soft blond fuzz. Dylan strokes himself, admiring the dull marks from his own fingers decorating the golden skin, then spills on his ass and thighs.

He doesn’t lean into Mitch, but it takes him a minute to get his brain back online and stand up to go bring a washcloth. When he’s back Mitch is doing some weird yoga-like stretching, still on his knees, thank god. Dylan is pretty sure that if he lies down on his stomach or turns that couch is ruined. 

“Shit, that was inspired.” Mitch grins goofily from over his shoulder at him as Dylan cleans up. “You’re the best at sex. Dylan Strome, orgasms MVP.”

“Hmmm. Couldn’t do it without you, bud.” 

“Fine, we’re the best at sex. Ow, ow.” 

Dylan stops and remembers he should be more careful wiping Mitch’s thighs. “You okay?” 

Mitch flops on his back and Dylan sits back, lets Mitch put his legs in his lap. He wants to check Mitch’s thighs, he’s a little concerned and a lot curious, but the light switches are really far away.

“I am never moving again,” Mitch announces.

“I wish you had the clapping thing for your lights,” Dylan says, because his brain is still kind of a mush. 

“Mmmm. You should go brush your teeth and then we can make out.” 

Dylan laughs. “Romantic.”

Mitch stretches until he is no longer sprawled on Dylan and grabs for the half-empty gatorade. “Whatever, man.” 

Dylan sighs. “Want me to get your phone?”

“Nah, I'm good.” Mitch says decidedly. 

"Yeaי, you are." Dylan laughs and gets up to brush his teeth.


End file.
